I find Astra in her herb garden, kneeling in the dirt with her hands buried in soil. She’s humming softly to herself, completely absorbed in transplanting seedlings from one pot to another. The morning sun catches in her dark hair, and for a moment, she looks so peaceful that I almost don’t want to disturb her.
Almost.
“Astra.”
She looks up, her face brightening with a smile that falters the moment she sees my expression.
“Seth? Is everything okay?”
I hold out the wine bottle.
“Can you check this for me?”
Her eyebrows raise as she brushes dirt from her hands, standing slowly.
“Sure…” She draws the word out, studying my face with growing concern. “Check it for what, exactly?”
“Just check it. Please.”
Something in my voice—the urgency, the tension I can’t quite hide—makes her expre
